Emily Holmes
by redwillowphoenix
Summary: During breakfast, Watson gets some surprising news. Written from Watson's POV
1. Chapter 1

Emily Holmes

This fanfict came to me in a dream. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to finish it though.

ALL characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle except my OC.

Summary: Watson is in for a surprise at the breakfast table with Holmes. Written in Watson's POV

'I have a daughter.' said Holmes suddenly.

I choked on my coffee in surprise, gasping for air as the liquid dribbled down my chin. 'What?' I spluttered over the breakfast table.

Holmes looked at me warily over the morning paper.

'Why tell me now?' I demanded.

'Because, Watson, she needs a place to stay and since I am her father...'

He was clearly insulting me, but I chose to ignore it. 'But you never liked children! Children are scared of you, Holmes!'

He chuckled. 'I suppose they are. But this is my daughter we are talking about. She will be just as observant and endevious as I.'

Mrs. Hudson, the landlady walked in on us. 'What's this I hear of a girl staying with you two?' she inquired.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Holmes looked smugly up at her. 'My daughter is coming...nanny.'

'Oh, Mr. Holmes, you have quite a way with words.' she chuckled, picking up his plate of less than half eaten toast.

'Its true.' I confirmed glumly, pushing myself out of the chair.

She froze, her knuckles turning white from squeezing the plate she was holding so hard.

Just as quickly she composed herself and said nothing as if it never even happened. She briskly walked out of the room. I stared after her before turning back to my companion. He seemed indifferent, but I was sure he noticed.

'Where will she stay?' I sighed.

'Well, I was hoping you could help me clean up the spare room.' he replied, sipping his tea and folding the newspaper in half.

'Holmes, I have patients to see!'

'Take a rain check, my dear Watson. They will understand.'

I sighed and punched the bridge of my nose with my fingertips 'sometimes, Holmes. Sometimes.'

Gladstone, our English bulldog, wined from his spot under my feet as if to agree.

I reached underneath to rub his wrinkled head. His tiny stub of a tail wagged happily

'Watson?'

I looked up to see the spot in front of me empty.

I heaved myself to my feet, my leg twinging in pain.

I followed after my companion and opened the door to a room with papers, books, an old lamp, dishes, and old newspaper clippings tacked to the wall.

'I was always careful to avoid this room, and now I know why.' I said aloud.

Holmes was digging through a box when he came across a large scrapbook. Embroidered on the front was "Sherlock Holmes." he blew the dust off the top and handed it to me. I opened the first page to see a faded photograph of Holmes as a baby, 'you were an ugly little thing.' I said.

'I was probably more of a stud than you were as a baby, Watson.'

I scoffed and flipped through the dusty worn papers. Pictures of Holmes and Mycroft at what seemed to be an estate, pictures of Holmes by himself, and at the very back was a picture of a small girl. She had Holmes' dark hair hidden under a bonnet, a dress completed with a pedicoat and corset. Her eyes were similar to his too. I couldn't tell for sure because there was no color in the photograph.

Underneath the photo in Holmes' childish handwriting it read: Emily Holmes.

'Holmes?' I said, lifting up the scrapbook.

He looked up from moving a box.

'Is this her?'

He put down the box and looked over my shoulder at the girl in the photograph. He nodded slowly. 'Yes.' he said softly.

There was something in his voice. Sadness? Longing?

I turned to look at him, but he had his back turned to me.

Maybe Holmes' daughter coming to stay will be a good thing...if she survives.


	2. Chapter 2

Holmes' Daughter chapter 2

**So, I was very excited to get all the reviews and I felt so needed, so I put a second chapter up. Thanks for the reviews everyone**

**Once again, NOT MINE!**

* * *

'Holmes, she sort of looks like-'

'I know.' said Holmes curtly, his back still to me.

'Is she-'

'That _woman_, wants nothing to do with her. She was sent to live in an orphanage. Obviously, she wasn't fit to live with me because of my...habits and lifestyle.'

I knew he was referring to the cocaine. And the _Woman_ he talks about is no other than Irene Adler. From what I just heard, Irene wants nothing to do with her own child which is not like her at all.

'But why now?' I asked, closing the scrapbook with a bang and having dust fly into my face.

'Well, she has been in that orphanage for quite awhile.'

'How long is 'quite awhile', Holmes? Did you have this kid before you met me?'

'Yes.' said Holmes glumly. He rummaged inside a box and pulled out two crystal glasses. He reached behind the box and poured a clear liquid in one, and handed me the empty one.

'What are you drinking?' I asked, suddenly panicked.

'Formaldehyde. Care for a drop?' he asked, unfazed that he was drinking poison.

I watched him down the contents in the glass, then continue sorting through boxes. I was ready for him to collasp into a seizure, but he was fine.

'Holmes. I can't believe this is happening. This child is going to change your life! Forever!' I exclaimed at his calm demeanor.

'Yes. I know, Watson.'

'Are you nervous?' I asked.

'No.'

'Scared?'

'No.'

'Then what are you? Some emotionless human being?' I almost shouted.

'No Watson, I am both scared, nervous, horrified, excited and thrilled all at the same time.' said Holmes. 'I just control my emotions a lot better than you do.'

I sighed in annoyance, and we continued to sort through boxes in silence.

I had no idea how long we kept going through old and dusty things when Mrs. Hudson hurried up the stairs. 'Dr. Watson, Mr. Holmes? A carriage just pulled up.' she said at the doorway.

I looked at Holmes to see him looking grim. I set the box in my hands down onto the floor, and followed Holmes out the doorway and down the stairs. He stood patiently, fiddling with his housecoat probably thinking he could've wore something nicer. Over his head, I locked eyes with Mrs. Hudson, whom was extremely pale, and wiping invisible dirt off her hands onto her apron.

Holmes reached over and opened the front door. A carriage pulled by a large black horse was parked on the sidewalk. There was a figure moving in the back seat. I watched as I saw a foot emerge from the darkness of the carriage. Then, followed by other boot and a pair of legs. Next, a gloved hand grasped the edge of the carriage, and then her dark hair that spilled over her shoulders. She looked up at us.

She looked a lot like Irene, with the same nose and strong jaw. Her eyes were large and a light golden brown, like her fathers, with dark hair and slight curls. She smiled at us, her blood red lips pulled back to show her white teeth.

In her other gloved hand, she held a tattered suitcase. She wore a white laced dress, with a pedicoat, and a corset like in the picture. She wasn't wearing a bonnet this time. She looked at least fourteen, or maybe even fifteen.

'Hello, Doctor Watson.' she said, looking at me. Her voice was musical, soft. She did a soft bow, pulling her skirts up slightly.

'Hello, Emily.' I replied, surprised by her very good manners and how similar her voice sounded to her mothers.

She looked at Holmes. 'Father.' she said bitterly.

I could tell she didn't like him. In the brief two minutes I've known her, I could tell she despised her father.

'And who are you?' she asked politely to Mrs. Hudson.

Mrs. Hudson had seemed to relax since seeing this child. She introduced herself as the landlady and welcomed her to Baker Street.

Holmes silently walked up the stairs and Emily followed with her suitcase. 'Father.' she said coldly, then she turned to me. 'Doctor.'

'Yes?' I said.

'I just want to get to know my way around, so I'm going to go take a walk.' she said.

It wasn't a question.

'You'll need an escort!' squeaked Holmes.

She laughed, giving him a sour look. 'No, thanks. I'll manage.' she said, walking pass me and closing the door softly behind her.

'That went well.' I said slowly.

* * *

**Holmes POV**

'I must follow her.' I said, rushing over to the vanity and picking up a fake nose. I fixed it onto my own nose, and gagged at the smell. I hurried over to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of soot, and rubbed it into my hair and on my face. I grabbed a nearby eyepatch, snapped it onto my left eye and wrapped a scarf around my neck and mouth. I almost sprinted across the room to grab a trench coat, and draped it over my shoulders.

'Holmes...' Watson sighed irritably.

I ignored his protest, and hurried down the stairs after my daughter.

I saw her walk confidently a few yards ahead. Keeping my distance, I watched as she smiled at strangers, and observed her surroundings.

_So much like me,_ I mused.

I followed her into a back alley, hiding behind a pile of boxes, worried for her safety.

Out of the shadows, a man came up to her.

'Hello, beautiful. Got some sugar for me?'

'What?' she asked innocently.

'C'mere.' he said, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

I started to get up from my spot when I saw something glint in her sleeve. I stood frozen to the spot, then dropped back down behind the boxes.

She pulled something out of her sleeve. A baton. With speed and agility, she knocked the guy that was holding her on the kneecap, then on the arm.

He grunted in pain, releasing her, and grabbed his injured knee, but she had other plans. She took out a small knife and placed it onto the flesh of his throat. She reached inside of his pocket, and pulled out some change. 'What's this?' she said innocently, holding it up in front of his face. 'Thank you.' she stuffed it into her boot.

She put the knife back into her sleeve and walked away as if nothing had happened.

I've seen Irene do this many times. Maybe she isn't like me at all. Maybe she's a criminal, just like her mother.


End file.
